


It's always Christmas in your arms

by 796116311389



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cat Sherlock Holmes, Cat/Human Hybrids, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Humor, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389
Summary: This is the story of the best Christmas gift John ever received.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 103
Collections: Holmestice Exchange - Winter 2019





	It's always Christmas in your arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reveling_in_mayhem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveling_in_mayhem/gifts).



This is the story of how John got the best Christmas gift he ever received. 

When John first met Sherlock he was the fifth Katzengeist he had met in his life. 

However, he was the first he ever got to live in any proximity to and quite frankly he was grateful otherwise he might never have accepted Sherlock's offer to room together and split the rent. 

Living with a man who is part cat is actually more difficult then John could have imagined. Sherlock was fastidious with his own personal grooming, but an utter slob around the house. 

He never ate on a regular schedule and his love of stinky food was incomparable. (Sometimes John thought he did it on purpose.) He was also prone to hiding dead things around the flat. He always claimed it was for some such experiment or other, but John was pretty sure it was just an instinct. 

Lastly, he had no sense of personal boundaries and that's the part that was really driving John mad. Cold and aloof, the detective would come and plop his head down in John's lap while he was on the couch and expect John to stroke his hair and give him scratches behind his cat ears. (Which John always did, but it was the principle of the matter.)

But the affection was just a need and John was the closest body around to fulfill it and it was slowly killing him. 

He was falling in love with Sherlock despite all his insanity. 

No one else got to see Sherlock's eyes go round and big when he connects the dots.

No one else got to see the way Sherlock would curl in on himself when he thought he'd failed.

No one else got to make him a Stargazy Pie for his birthday and watch with utter delight the gusto with which Sherlock tucked into it. 

No, John wasn't falling in love with Sherlock; he was already clearly head over heels.

And that was definitely a bad thing since Sherlock was very clearly not interested in him. 

Which is how things are when Christmas finally rolls around. Sherlock had spent most of the month of December sulking and complaining that Christmas was a pointless holiday (Really, John knew he loved it because of all the fairy lights and baubles and whatnot. No, what he really disliked was that the number of violent crimes and murders went down and the incidences of petty theft and simple assault went up.)

Now it's Christmas Eve and Sherlock is in a mood and John is quite frankly disappointed. 

"Jesus, Sherlock. For one day of the year you could at least pretend everything isn't about you."

Sherlock looked over his shoulder from where he was curled on the couch, "Why would I do that when everything clearly is?"

"No, it's not. I'm also here and sometimes I would like it if you respected the fact that I'm another human being living in the same flat as you."

"Ah, so you say, but yet you spend all your time following me around, babying me, and generally mooning after me." 

John wasn't sure if the feeling in him at that moment was intense embarrassment, anger for having that flung in his face, or sadness that Sherlock could be so callous about his feelings. Probably a combination of all three. 

John could feel his face turn hot and red, "You absolute wanker. You absolute. Fucking wanker. God, I actually fucking hate you sometimes." John steps to the door and aggressively puts on his coat and shoes. 

This gets Sherlock's attention. He sits straight up, his ears perked and his tail lashing agitatedly. "Where are you going?"

"Out. Clearly you don't want me around."

Sherlock stands swiftly and attempts to block John's exit from the flat. "No."

"No? You have no fucking say Sherlock." He says as he forces his way past Sherlock and down the stairs.

"But it's Christmas!" He hears Sherlock shout down the stairs.

"Well, bully for you!" And with that he slams the front door to 221B and heads out into the cold slushy snow. 

He walks aimlessly for about an hour until he hails a cab and ends up at his sister's house.

He knocks and Bethany answers. She takes one look at John, makes a cooing noise, and ushers him in. 

"Harry, your brother is here and from the looks of it I'd say it was a lovers quarrel."

John hangs his head and gives a loud sigh. Did everyone fucking know about his one sided pining for his emotionally unavailable flatmate? He removes his coat and follows Bethany into the family room by the kitchen where Harry is cooking. 

"Hey little brother. Lovers quarrel?"

"No."

"Ah. So you just felt like arriving unannounced at your sister's and imposing yourself?"

"Oh my God, Harry. You can't have a lovers quarrel if you aren't lovers."

"Oh, I'm sure you two have done enough eye-fucking to qualify for the phrase."

This makes Bethany snort into her wine glass which earns a dirty look from John. 

"Look. His nibs is being a prat and clearly doesn't want me around the flat and it's bloody cold outside, so yes, I thought my sister might welcome me in with loving arms."

Harry scrunched up her nose, "Welllll....I wouldn't say loving, but, yeah, I _guess_ you can stay for dinner and the night if you need too." She ends with a smile and takes a sip from her wine glass to try and hide it. 

"Thank you. And I am sorry for showing up unannounced."

"Nah, don't be. I'm just ribbing you Johnny. Bethany and I are happy to have you for the holiday."

Dinner is a delicious affair and they sit around the fire for a bit sharing stories: Bethany and Harry telling John funny stories of gift shopping and John of Sherlock. Eventually it gets late and they all decide to go to bed. 

John takes the couch in the living room with the Christmas Tree. It's a beautiful sight and he wishes Sherlock were there to see it in that moment because it is truly lovely and he would appreciate it. 

He falls asleep. 

A short while later he wakes to a quiet tapping sound. Disoriented at first, he remembers he's at his sister's. It's clearly the wee hours and then he hears it again. A tapping against the sliding glass door to the backyard. 

Carefully, he gets up and looks outside. 

Standing in the back yard is Sherlock. He's forgotten his hat again and John can see the way his breath curls out with every exhale.

John opens the slider and whisper yells at him, "Sherlock! Get in here."

Sherlock is quick to comply and comes inside. John shuts the door behind him to stop the cold from sucking out all the warmth of the room.

Sherlock quickly removes his coat and gives a full body shiver, his tail puffing up. He turns to face John and in the dim multicolored glow from the fairy lights on the Christmas Tree, Sherlock looks beautiful and magical.

John gives a weary sigh, "Sherlock. What are you doing here? It's, what? Three in the morning?"

"Four. But this couldn't wait John. I had to see you. I need to apologize for what I said yesterday."

John for his part is stunned. He can't honestly remember the last time he heard Sherlock apologize. 

"I'm sorry."

John still can't speak. He isn't sure what to say. He's tired and it's early and he's thouroughly distracted by the way Sherlock looks at this particular moment. 

"John. I said I'm sorry for being rude yesterday and saying the things I said." Sherlock cocked his head before giving a dramatic sigh and throwing himself forward and into a kiss with John. 

John throws his hands up and grabs Sherlock's upper arms, but just holds on and doesn't push him away. He's kissing Sherlock back before he remembers that he's mad at the git and they're not in a relationship, at least that he's aware of. He gently pulls his head back, but he doesn't release his grip. 

"Uh, Sherlock? Not that I'm necessarily complaining, but what are you doing?" 

"Kissing you." Sherlock narrows his eyes and tilts his head, "I feel that was pretty obvious."

"You're being obtuse on purpose. You know I meant _why_ are you kissing me?"

"Because after you left, I actually reflected on what I'd said and how you reacted and then I contemplated my own reactions to you. I then looked at the greater scheme of things and what we are to each and realized that I would actually like to pursue a relationship with you and I already know you would be amenable to it and once I reached that conclusion obviously I had to inform you of it as well."

"Ah. Ok. Did you forget you should probably confess your undying love for someone before you start snogging them senseless?"

"My undying love?" 

"Yes, love."

"Love?"

John gives a chuckle as he watches Sherlock's cheeks turn pink and the sound of gentle purr breaks the silence. Sherlock gives a small cough of embarrassment, "Hm. Well. I like the sound of that."

"I can hear that."

Sherlock gives him a gentle swat to the arm and John laughs. 

"Now that we've kissed and made up quite literally, let's get some sleep. It's still early and I'm tired." 

Sherlock's purr intensified, but that was the only confirmation John got that Sherlock would like that very much indeed.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him down to join him on the couch. 

They curl up, entwined together and fall asleep as John gently strokes Sherlock's back. 

The next day they awoke to the sound of someone's phone camera going off. 

"Awww...Look at the lovebirds. Made up I see?"

John cracks open one eye to see Bethany standing in her Pjs, smartphone in hand, clicking photos of him and Sherlock together on the couch. 

John hears a disgruntled noise come from the man in his arms, "I am not a bird. I am a cat."

John laughs at the indignation in Sherlock's voice at being compared to a bird. 

Harry comes out after Bethany and let's her eyes go wide at the sight of her brother on the couch with Sherlock. "So can I say it was a lovers quarrel now?"

John groans at his sister, "Harry, we just slept. We did not have sex on your couch."

Sherlock ears perk up and the end of his tail twitches, "Oh, there's an idea. Can we go home and have sex on _our_ couch?"

Harry and Bethany laugh at Sherlock's forward request. 

John pulls his head back to get a better look at Sherlock snuggled into his chest, "You did not just proposition me for sex in front of my sister."

"Hmmm. I did actually. Can we go now?" Sherlock's voice has the edge of a whine to it. 

"Oh my God." John smiles and sits up, careful not to knock Sherlock to the floor. "Yes. We can go now. Harry. Bethany. Thank you for dinner and having me over. Apparently, I need to get home."

Harry and Bethany give a laugh and help John pick up the living room while Sherlock puts his coat on and takes a seat to wait for John. They're quick and soon they're on their way out the door. They say their goodbyes and just before they get in the cab they called, Harry calls out from the front door, "Go get'em tiger!"

"Was she talking to you or me?"

John shrugs and they get into the cab.

The ride home simultaneously takes no time at all and feels like forever, but in the end they get there and it's just as well they decided to leave when they did. A heavy snow has begun to fall and the streets are already filling with it. 

John and Sherlock get themselves inside and shed their coats.

John rubs his hands together and turns up the heating. "Shall I get a fire going as well?"

"Yes, why not. I'll make us tea while you do that."

John checks the fireplace for any hidden 'experiments' and then builds a fire that's quickly crackling away. He pokes at the fire and takes a seat as Sherlock comes back into the room with their tea. He's shut the room divider and the result is the living room quickly warms and becomes cozy. With the curtains drawn and mostly hiding the midday light and the thick snow falling silencing the sounds of the city, John could believe that it was only he and Sherlock left in the world. 

They sip their tea in silence only occasionally sharing a heated glance with each other.

They finish and set their cups aside and John leans forward to carefully place a hand on Sherlock's knee. "So, where were we?"

Sherlock gives a small smile, "I believe we were at the part where you come over here so I can snog you senseless."

"Ah. We were, weren't we?"

John stands from his chair and then settles onto Sherlock's lap, straddling his legs. Sherlock brings his arms up and caresses John's back. They meet in the middle for their kiss. John is elated that Sherlock actually does like him and wants him like this. Romantically and sexually. 

Their kisses go on for a while and then John shifts and presses himself down into the hard bulge in Sherlock's trousers and it's like a fire has been lit in his veins. Their kisses deepen and Sherlock begins nipping at Johns lips and- oh! John likes very much being snogged within an inch of his life by the world's most observant man. 

Sherlock tries to push himself up into John but they can't quite get the angle right and so, with a strength John always forgets Sherlock has, he lifts John up and lays them both down on the floor. Now John is beneath Sherlock and being straddled by his strong thighs. 

"Can I take your sweater and vest off John? I want to see you." 

"Only if you let me take your coat and shirt off too."

"Perfect! Excellent idea."

Sherlock helps John remove his tops and then John helps Sherlock do the same. 

The fire is warm as the heat of the flames brushes against their skin. 

John lies still as Sherlock's piercing gaze gives a slow once over and his hands trail up John's chest, pausing only to gently brush against a nipple. "God, John you're perfect. I've always wanted to see what you looked like under your clothes, but I never expected it to be so arousing. God, the things you do to me."

John gives a huffed laugh, "Pretty sure that's my line." He reaches up to explore the planes of Sherlock's muscles. Sherlock leans down and they kiss again. Tongues gently sweeping into each other's mouths. 

John reaches around Sherlock and grabs his butt and pulls him down until their groins are in contact again. They rut against each other until Sherlock breaks away with a moan, "John. John, we have to stop or I'm going to come in my pants. I'd much rather take them off and come on you. Are you amniable to that?"

John groans at the image, "Fuck yes. I am definitely amniable to that." 

They quickly shed their trousers and pants, John being mindful of Sherlock's tail. 

Sherlock lowers himself back down against John and the feel of their bare skin against one another is electric. They rut together again and it's wholly different without clothes on. For starters, it's a lot _better_.

The set up a slow rythym and the moment is perfect. John looks up at Sherlock. His hair is a riot of curls and his cat ears are velvety black in the low light of the fire. Their eyes meet and John is certain he has never met a man more beautiful in his life. And he's made all the more gorgeous by the look of pure wonder on his face, as if he's the lucky one.

John runs his hands down Sherlock's back and brushes up against his tail. Sherlock gives a full body shudder and cries out. "Again, John, again." 

John strokes the base of Sherlock's tail and Sherlock begins thrusting harder and more erratically, sliding slickly with precum and sweat.

"Oh, God, Sherlock. Oh, fuck. Yeah." John slides one hand up into Sherlock's hair and pulls. 

"John, John, John!" And just like that Sherlock is coming all over John. The sight and feel of Sherlock coming has John falling over the edge as well. 

John thrusts until Sherlock stops coming and then Sherlock collapses on top of him and starts loudly purring. 

John hugs Sherlock and lightly pets him, "So, uh, you like having your tail stroked during sex?" 

"Mmm..when I'm aroused it becomes nearly as sensitive as stroking my prostate. Almost too much really. If you pet it now it'll just feel _really_ nice."

"That was the most shameless ask I've ever heard." John started gently stroking Sherlock's tail again. 

"Maybe. But you're complying."

"That I am, love."

"Love."

"Always."

"Always."

And that's how John got the best Christmas gift he could have ever asked for: Sherlock's Love.

~Fin~


End file.
